


37°C

by tofsla



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofsla/pseuds/tofsla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friday nights with friends. Or: Takeda and Ukai aren't exactly in a relationship, but do keep having sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	37°C

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crystalusagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/gifts).



> Crystal prompted: Takeda/Ukai, drunk. These aspects are both definitely present.

Keishin shuffles carefully out from his spot on the sofa, beer clutched in one hand, the other fumbling in his pocket for a his packet of cigarettes—bumps against at least three different people on his way to the door, stiff-legged after a long day, head buzzing pleasantly from alcohol. Takeda is watching him go, catches his eye and raises a questioning eyebrow; Keishin waves the packet of cigarettes by way of explanation, ducks out, down the stairs and onto the street, humid summer air. He tried smoking on the tiny balcony once, but Takeda's upstairs neighbour gave him hell for it and, more to the point, probably gave Takeda hell for it too. Takeda's never said so, but Keishin knows the type pretty well. Like that guy he short-changed once a couple of years back, who still makes a point of reminding him about it every single time he's in the shop.

This is a new Friday routine. Beer and sake at Takeda's place, or occasionally Takinoue's, if he's free—rarely the Tanaka household, because neither Keishin or Takeda need teenagers they work with to see them drunk, and only once at the store. Keishin just couldn't relax. A few teammates, whoever's in the mood—but always Takeda and him, and usually Saeko, though she has another group of friends who sometimes go out to the bar instead. Keishin hates the bar—there's always someone his parents know there, asking him if he's engaged yet. Sometimes even his granddad's friends. This is better. He's really too tired for it, but on the other hand, it's because he's always so fucking tired that he needs it. Half the time he just feels like he's sleep-walking. At least this way he gets something a little bit like a social life, actually sees his old friends a bit more outside of practice.

Cigarettes. Right.

His lighter doesn't want to play, clicks irritably over and over again—he'll have to remember to chuck it and pick up a new one in the morning. But it works in the end, and he pulls smoke gratefully into his lungs, sighs it out into the quiet street. A relief.

"Got a light, then?" Saeko says, and Ukai tries not to flinch in surprise. She smirks at him, a sidelong glance full of amusement. Everyone seems way too into sneaking up on him these days.

"Good fucking luck," he says, and tosses the wretched thing in her general direction—not exactly good aim, but OK for midnight. She manages to snatch it out of the air, anyway, throws it and catches it a couple of times just because she can.

"Cheers." Of course it works for her first time.

"So," she adds, staring off down the street, straight past him. That smirk hasn't left. "Getting married yet, are you?"

"You—"

"—heard you complaining about it a couple of hours ago." She's laughing. "Come off it, you're gay as hell. Let's get fake-married and shut everyone up."

Keishin can't help it, he actually chokes on smoke, has to lean against the fence to stop himself doubling up in a coughing fit. 

"Got you," she says. "And don't think I don't know you're going to end up making out with Takeda- _sensei_ in the bathroom later and assume no-one'll notice." 

Too much emphasis on Takeda's position. He knows damn well what she usually calls him; _Take-chan, Take-chan,_ just like her little brother. Kids these days are so cocky, Keishin thinks, sour and only very slightly panicked. Give them a driving licence and a part time job and they think they know everything. She's only a few years younger than him, but still. And maybe they haven't exactly been as subtle as they though, these past few weeks. Alcohol is awful after all. Damn it.

"Don't worry," she says. "Me too, y'know?"

Surprise.

"Bisexuality exists," Keishin says, refusing to take the last bit of bait. He can't help it, the whole thing makes him feel kind of defensive. "If I want to get married to a woman I'll just do it."

"Well, sure." Saeko flicks ash from her cigarette. "Doesn't seem like you're that interested right now, though."

"You'd know." So much for a relaxing smoke break. "Hey, uh, how many people have noticed? About me and him."

"Probably just me," Saeko says. "Either that or everyone else is too embarrassed to let on. You're not always _that_ quiet." She laughs. "I don't blame you. He's pretty cute, if you go for that kinda thing."

"Ugh." Keishin stamps out the remains of his cigarette, drains his beer, tries not to think about his high school friends discussing his sex life. "I'm going back in if I can't get some fucking peace out here. I'm not drunk enough for this."

 

 

 

Inside, he snags a spot next to Takeda, while Saeko goes to dig through the fridge. 

"Doing OK?" Takeda asks, smiling. He's not that drunk yet, probably; he tends to get more intense the more he drinks—though he's a little pink-cheeked and ruffled, he doesn't seem like he's about to give a speech. 

"Never better," Keishin says. "Hey, can you reach the bottle?"

Takeda can, and does.

"She noticed," Keishin says, leans in close to mutter it against Takeda's shoulder as he reaches for a glass.

"Well," Takeda says. "She doesn't mind, I suppose, since she's still digging through my fridge for mixers. So there's no problem."

Keishin doesn't really know what to say, so he shrugs, drinks, still leaning against Takeda, which is probably more or less socially acceptable in the circumstances—takes too big a mouthful, but never mind. It's not that he's ashamed, exactly, but the rumour mill in this boring damn town is the worst, and there's family to think about, there's Takeda's job—it's all too much to process. It's going to take him more than a few weeks just to work out what they're even doing, beyond being a pair of small-town queers who have fun together. And then there's what he actually _wants_ them to be doing, too. He might never figure that one out. Sorry, Takeda—that's what you get for sleeping with the local loser. But maybe it isn't even complicated for Takeda. He wouldn't know. It's not a conversation they've had. He doesn't know shit about Takeda, really—about long-term plans or family or whatever. They talk about sports, the news, shitty films. That's all.

He told Saeko he wasn't drunk enough, but it's possible he's actually had a bit too much. His body feels unpleasantly heavy all of a sudden, and there's a kind of restless, undefined uneasiness that makes him want to move anyway—away, or closer? Either. Both.

Later, maybe not very much later, Takeda is going to look at him very seriously and ask him what he wants, and Keishin is going to admit that he really wants to fuck, and it's going to happen again. It pretty much always happens—not even just on Friday nights, lately. Not even just when they're drunk. He wants it. It always feels great. But right now he's a bit afraid, too—not just of Saeko and her ridiculous knowing smirk, but of himself, his inability to think straight about the whole thing. Making out in the bathroom—like teenagers, for fuck's sake. The kind of thing Saeko's little brother would probably get up to with his girlfriend, if he had one. The worst part is that he loves it. Embarrassing as hell.

"Relax," Takeda says. His fingers brush lightly against the small of Keishin's back, out of everyone's line of sight, just sneaking under the edge of his top to brush against skin. "This is the night when you _don't_ have to think so hard, isn't it?"

Keishin swears under his breath, leaning back to push Takeda's hand more firmly against him, and Takeda smiles at him, a little bit too cheerful.

Like teenagers.

Damn.

 

 

 

It happens, of course: Takeda pulling him down by the shirt to kiss him, smiling against his mouth—"you taste like an ashtray," always too blunt about things like that, even worse when he's drunk, though the words come out weirdly affectionate—kissing him again, again, as though he likes it, Keishin's stupid unhealthy addiction. All his addictions. His other hand is between Keishin's legs already, feeling out the shape of Keishin's cock. They're alone, they're alone, he's backed up against the bathroom sink with Takeda close against him, but the others aren't far away, they could be caught—Saeko knows and they know that she knows—and here they are anyway.

He feels so pleasantly hot at the thought that he has to wonder if he's some kind of sick fuck who's actually into the risk of it—wouldn't that figure. But he's not going to worry about it, not when Takeda is right there, kissing him, open-mouthed and messy and kind of amazing. Sort of filthy. They're not very coordinated, but it doesn't seem to matter that much. On the other hand, sure, Keishin has slept with people, but he can't remember the last time he felt this much at risk of making a total idiot of himself. One way or another.

"Shit," he mumbles, covers his mouth with his palm to keep himself quiet as Takeda gets a hand inside his underwear—goal-oriented isn't the half of it. Keishin's been hard for a while now, so he's really not complaining, groans at the feeling of Takeda's fingers stroking up his cock—he has a feeling he's not going to last long tonight, but that's ok. He kind of wants to get off already so he can get on his knees and suck Takeda's cock, he's really in the mood for it. Takeda curling over him, maybe yanking his hair because it feels so good and he just can't help it—why not? He loves it when Takeda gets into it like that, does stuff that he knows he's going to remember suddenly the next day at work and feel warm all over about until he has to find someone to yell at.

Keishin really is kind of drunk. At least Takeda is too, way less deliberate than he'd been on Wednesday, touching him with enthusiastically clumsy determination. _It's my only redeeming quality,_ he said once, didn't he, about something completely different. It's pretty good, it's what Keishin needs right now, but he comes thinking about what bullshit it is—the idea that Takeda doesn't have anything else going for him.

If he was someone else, someone who wasn't a drunk idiot still shaking from the aftereffects of a sort of weird orgasm in a bathroom on a Friday night, maybe he'd give a fucking motivational speech or something. Takeda likes that kind of thing, Keishin thinks hazily, has to resist the urge to laugh.

Takeda's hands are stroking soothingly up and down Keishin's back, as though he's the one who needs encouragement, and Takeda's face is pressed into the junction of his neck and his shoulder—Keishin can feel his breathing coming in little huffs, their skin sticking together in the warm air. The sink is uncomfortable against his backside, and he feels a bit weird—but not weird enough to have stopped wanting Takeda, not by a long shot.

He pushes Takeda back just enough to give himself space, gets on his knees, leans his head against Takeda's stomach while he struggles with belt fastenings and buttons. "Who the fuck wears this many clothes on a night when they're planning to have sex?" he asks, and Takeda laughs, a stuttered exhale; retaliates by gently tugging the band out of Keishin's hair, dropping it on the floor beside them. Stupid, stupid, he's never going to be able to avoid looking like he's just had sex now—but he kind of doesn't mind anyway, doesn't mind at all when Takeda's fingers slide through his hair, a ghost of a touch against his scalp, promising.

 

 

 

Takeda follows him outside, afterwards—he's not going to get to smoke by himself at all tonight, this much is obvious. At least Saeko doesn't seem to want to join them this time, didn't even give him an I-told-you-so smirk when he stumbled to the door, just shrugged at him and went right back to whatever story she was telling Shimada.

Keishin's lighter doesn't want to cooperate for him now, either. But he gets there in the end.

"I suppose you're going home soon," Takeda says. 

"Yeah," Keishin says, pulls a face around his cigarette. "Need a shower."

"You know you could stay," Takeda says. "I'm throwing the rest of this lot out soon. I have marking to do tomorrow, but you—"

"Don't bother, I'll be up way too fucking early," Keishin says, because he'd really kind of like to stay and he can't quite deal with the fact. "I won't sleep right here, anyway."

"Hmm," Takeda says. "That's fine, then. I just wanted you to know that you're—ah—always welcome."

Keishin snorts, wonders if he might be flushing a bit despite himself—is rather afraid he might be. At least it's dark. At least he's drunk—sobering, but still. "Sure. Thanks."

"I mean it," Takeda says, and Keishin has to look away, nods sharply instead of trying to find any other words to show he gets it.

He really isn't sure he does get it, anyway—any of it.


End file.
